


Ruckus

by maximumoverprice (nightbirdrises)



Series: Slow Change [1]
Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-14 01:16:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14124978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightbirdrises/pseuds/maximumoverprice
Summary: A sort of vignette inspired by - though not directly connected to - the Breakfast Club.Some Blackwell students, including Max Caulfield, have found themselves in a long detention period on a Saturday for a myriad of reasons. This turns out to be the fateful day that Max had been avoiding as she encounters an unfamiliarly familiar face for the first time in five years.





	1. Troubles & Doubts

**Author's Note:**

> For now, just some lighthearted fun with a sprinkling of heavier things.
> 
> Clarification note in response to a question about which ship is the main one as of 3/29/18:  
> That's a good question and I apologize for not clarifying sooner - I just hadn't decided yet, in all truthfulness! It all depended on how far I wanted to take this particular story, which has several open-ended questions that are meant to be openings for potential expansion into a series. This little almost-canon universe is dedicated to my own exploration of various pair and group dynamics as I work out how to write these characters in my style and interpretation.  
> The primary relationship at hand for this installment is Pricefield. [Amberprice and Amberpricefield] are or will be strong past and future influences, so it feels like a disservice not to name them as important points as well. This semi-contained story focuses on the reunion aspect of Max and Chloe, however, and with them it shall stay.  
> It's true that this premise is more a character exercise for me than anything else, so things are dynamic and shifting as I work things out for myself along the way. If you're up for the ride, feel free to come along! And if not, I completely understand.

Max Caulfield has never been a perfect student by any definition of the phrase. Her grades are just passable at best, cause for a concerned call from her parents in Seattle at worst. Not that it really matters for someone who aspires to be a photographer; who cares about your abysmal high school Chemistry grade when your work is being shown in galleries?

At least, that’s the hope. The gallery thing, that is. She has a long way to go, but she had hoped to study in Blackwell’s photography program, hence why she’s back here in Arcadia Bay. Back home. Yet, instead of shooting the sights and the people on this chilly Saturday in mid-October, she’s here in detention.

“If you were hopin’ for Ms. Grant to be keeping an eye on you today as usual, well, she’s got some family emergency. So I’m filling in.”

David Madsen glares around at the four students arranged at separate tables in front of him. Max, seated as far back as possible, can’t see any of their faces – but she knows each and every one of them. Except for one.

“I don’t think it’s any secret that I have better things to do than stare at you troublemakers all day.”

There’s Brooke Scott, seated with her arms crossed directly in front of Max. She’s probably one of the smartest students at Blackwell, along with Warren. It’s a little surprising to see her here, but Max has already heard the rumor that she was following Principal Wells with her drone on Thursday, so maybe it’s not all that strange.

“So I’m going to do something which I hope none of you will make me regret.”

At the table to the left of Brooke’s is the self-proclaimed queen of Blackwell, Victoria Chase. She looks even more irritated than usual; the little of her face Max can see at this angle displays a scowl the likes of which could burn a hole through a thick sheet of plastic. Max assumes she has a good reason to be here given her unapologetically bitchy attitude, but she never gets in trouble since she’s in good standing with Nathan Prescott, self-proclaimed king. It must have been bad for her to be here now.

“I’m going to have Miss Marsh watch over you for the next eight hours.”

Max’s wandering eyes jerk up to the front of the room. Sure enough, Kate Marsh stands nervously next to David, having just walked in. Her gaze meets Max’s and her eyes widen in poorly-masked surprise. Max imagines she wears a similar expression; why Kate? She, of all people, deserves to have her weekends free of interaction with some of their peers. Namely, Victoria.

“She volunteered, so I better not hear about any of you giving her a hard time. That means _you_ ,” David says, glancing severely at the table to the right of Brooke’s. Its occupant turns her head from the window with a huff and her profile is suddenly worryingly familiar even if little else about her seems that way – slouched low in the chair, with short blue hair and a beanie that wouldn’t be out of place at a liberal arts college but is certainly out of place in this room.

“I have a name, you know.” Max slides down in her seat; she knows that voice, too. It’s a little different now, harder and colder, but there’s no mistaking it. “And who says I’d give her a hard time? There are only two people in this room I have serious beef with.”

Chloe Price. Max is still staring in mild shock when Chloe turns her head towards the back of the room. Those blue eyes, fixed on her own, eliminate any doubt (or fragile hope) in an instant. 

“Well. Maybe three.” And her eyes return to the front of the room in the next instant, leaving Max with a dead weight in her stomach.

“I’m not takin’ any chances, soldier. Chloe. You, and everyone else, are to stay here until eight PM. I catch you anywhere else, you’ll be in much worse trouble than you are now.” David checks the clock on the wall. Max looks up at it, too: it’s noon. “No talking. No moving. Starting now.”

David nods to Kate, who tentatively nods back.

“I’ll be making my rounds if you need me.”

He leaves the room and the door swings shut with a click. Chloe clambers up to sit on top of her table and spins to face Max, who looks _almost_ directly at her – she’s really looking somewhere past Chloe’s left shoulder, out the window at an overcast sky.

“Max Caulfield. Who’d have guessed our grand fucking reunion would be in detention.”

“Um,” Kate starts, but then she thinks better of it and sits at one of the empty front tables – the one right in front of Victoria.

“It’s good to see you,” Max says, hoping Chloe won’t cause too much of a scene. “I, um, didn’t know you still went to Blackwell.”

Victoria scoffs, drawing their attention. “Barely. It’s a miracle she hasn’t flunked out by now. Only held back.” She tips her chin up. “Bet it’s got something to do with Rachel Amb-whore.”

“Vicky, with all undeserved respect, shut the fuck up,” Chloe says conversationally, pulling a pack of cigarettes from somewhere inside her jacket. “What about you and the almighty Prescott?”

“Y-you can’t smoke in here,” Kate says, her voice velvet-soft compared to everyone else’s. Chloe looks around at her and Max prepares to defend the kindest person at Blackwell from her own childhood best friend. Whatever weak jumble of words she had begun to muster up are for naught, however.

“Sure.” Chloe tucks the pack away. Victoria rolls her eyes and opens her mouth, but she’s interrupted before she can let out whatever insult she was planning.

“Which class is supposed to be in here, anyway?” Brooke asks. To her credit, she doesn’t look particularly ruffled despite being caught in between Victoria and Chloe. Not from the back, anyway. “I thought it was an art room, but I haven’t seen anyone use it this year.” 

“Photography,” Victoria mutters. Max nods to herself, overly aware of Chloe watching her. “The only reason I came to this sorry shithole, and they shut it down for my last year.”

“Aw, I’m sorry, did Vicky waste half a percent of daddy’s money?” Chloe says, leaning back on her arms. She has been taller than Max for some time now, but at some point in the last five years she seems to have developed a wiry, lean sort of strength in her physique. Framed by the large windows behind her, she’d make a good photo op. “Boo-fucking-hoo.”

“You don’t know a goddamn thing about me,” Victoria shoots back. Chloe snorts.

“Better watch your mouth. The big G up there is watching, right Kate?”

Max tries to convey a look of sympathy when Kate glances at her, but it’s hard to know if it was interpreted correctly. Brooke starts tapping restlessly on the table and Max decides it’s time to change the subject.

“Hey Brooke,” Max says, ignoring the way the other three also turn to her. She tries to add a bit of levity to her tone. “What are you in for?”

Brooke peers at her through her glasses. “You haven’t heard?”

“I mean, I heard a rumor, but—“

“Principal Wells thought I was tracking him with my drone. As if he’s interesting enough for a good reconnaissance mission.”

“So you weren’t following him?”

“No. My drone was twenty feet away from the guy. I was just showing Warren what she can do,” Brooke adds with a pleased smirk. It slips away after a moment. “He came up to us, rambling about privacy violations or something. Then he gave me detention.”

“Drunk bastard,” Chloe says. Brooke shrugs.

“He didn’t permanently confiscate it, so I’ll take what I can get. Say, Max,” Brooke says, “did Warren tell you if he had any plans this weekend?”

“Not that I know of?” Max says slowly. “But my phone got confiscated. For all I know, he could be blowing it up with his review of the latest cannibal film.”

“He’s the nerd kid, right?” Chloe interjects. “Why’s he blowing up your phone?”

“I don’t know. He’s passionate, I guess,” Max says. Chloe frowns a little, and Max bristles at the implication of disapproval. “He’s a good friend.”

“Well, he and I were supposed to go to the drive-in today,” Brooke says, the odd smirk back in full force.

“Oh. I’m sorry,” Max says, wondering what this has to do with… well, anything. She might have an inkling of a hunch, though. “I bet that would’ve been fun for you guys.”

“ _God_ , I can’t take this for eight hours,” Victoria complains, rubbing her temples.

“Fucking Christ, you can’t just be throwing holy words like that around.” Chloe points up at the ceiling. “Always watching.”

“Chloe,” Max says, a warning. She braces herself for an inevitably snippy response, but thankfully Chloe just lets out a long sigh and lies on her back across the table.

“Fine. Why don’t we ask why Nathan’s favorite pet is in here, then?”

“It’s none of your business.”

“I saw it,” Kate says, her voice stronger than before. Both Victoria and Chloe shift their attention to her, though with opposite reactions; Max catches a look of pure glee on Chloe’s face before she rolls onto her stomach. Victoria, on the other hand, seems to radiate the phrase _stop talking, now_.

“Check it out, the church girl’s got the goods,” Chloe says. “Spill!”

“I…” Kate trails off, looking at Victoria. Max tries to imagine the expression on Victoria’s face – is it threatening, dangerous, or… something else? “It’s not my place. But,” she continues with determination, sitting up straight, “I don’t know why she’d want to keep it from anyone.”

“Like I said, it’s no one’s business,” Victoria says, nodding as her entire body relaxes just enough for Max to notice the change.

“Aw, come on. I bet it’s a hella good story.” Kate keeps watching Victoria, who leans back in her chair, satisfied that her secret is safe. “Whatever. Let’s hear inmate Caulfield’s story.”

Max shifts nervously in her seat. “Well, it’s not very… ‘hella.’”

Chloe laughs, a genuine, table-shaking laugh that contains all the fond warmth that Max remembers from five years ago. It’s nice to hear again. “Never change, Maxi-Pad. Seriously though, what did you do? Plunder some booty?”

Chloe tosses her a wink and Max smiles, remembering Captain Bluebeard and Long Max Silver. It’s a shallow moment of comfort, though, knowing what Chloe probably _wants_ to say to her after five years of total radio silence. At least she seems aware that it’s probably not something to advertise to a room that contains Victoria Chase.

“Yeah, right. Mr. Madsen just caught me looking through some filing cabinets.” Max doesn’t mention that those cabinets are in this very room; again, Victoria Chase is mere feet away, listening intently. And anyway, does Chloe really need to know everything? “He thought I was being suspicious, but I was just looking for… a worksheet. That I had permission to get.”

“Huh.” Chloe regards her with interest, then slams her hand onto the table, making everyone except Brooke jump. “He’s such a paranoid prick-ass.” 

“Yeah. It was weird,” Max says, relieved that she doesn’t have to elaborate further. Chloe sprawls out some more on the table; she might as well be claiming it as her own from here on out. “What about you?”

Victoria is the one who laughs this time. “Oh, please. What _hasn’t_ she done?”

“I haven’t been a complete dick to anyone who didn’t deserve it,” Chloe says, low and accusatory. She refocuses on Max. “But Bitch-toria over there has a point, however flawed. I actually can’t remember what this one’s for.”

“You seem fine with that,” Max says, an eyebrow raised. Chloe grins, full of wolfish confidence as she sits back up and starts fiddling with her right boot.

“That’s ‘cause I’m gonna be out of here before you know it. Aha!” She pulls her phone out from her boot. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have to call in my bail team.”

“Let me guess,” Victoria says, her voice dripping with contempt, “you’re going to beg the great Rachel Amber to escort you out of here. Like picking up a problem child from daycare.”

“You got that right,” Chloe says, texting away. She does spare one exaggeratedly provocative glance for the other side of the room. “I’ve been a bad girl, Vicky.” 

“ _Ugh_.”

Max takes the opportunity of Chloe’s distraction to sneak to the front of the room, sitting around the corner from Kate at her table. “Hey.”

“Hey Max,” Kate says, smiling as she looks up from the sketchbook in front of her. “Sorry you have to be stuck here for no good reason.”

“Never mind me, what about you? No offense or anything, but I wouldn’t even do this if I got paid.” Kate’s smile turns rueful.

“I didn’t exactly volunteer for this. I mean, I did, but I didn’t think…” She shakes her head. “I was just supposed to help Ms. Grant grade some papers while she overlooked detention. When she couldn’t come in, Mr. Madsen said I should help him instead.

“I agreed before I knew what I was getting into,” Kate finishes with a flourish of her pencil. Max smiles at the cute drawing of a cartoony fox. “It’s not so bad, though.”

“Really?” Max looks back at Victoria, who’s busy glaring daggers at Chloe. She drops her voice. “I know Victoria’s been, well, not the nicest person to you. Or to anyone, but especially you.”

“You’re right, she hasn’t. But I think she could change and, unlike some others, she might succeed at that.”

“You sound so certain." 

“I’m just saying it might be worth it to try and get to know her.” Kate gives the fox a top hat and a tiny polka-dot bow tie, then fixes Max with a significant look. “I can’t tell you why.”

“Huh?” Kate’s point dawns on Max a second later. “ _Oh_. Victoria’s secret.”

Kate laughs, which draws Chloe’s attention. “What are you sunshine twins giggling about?”

Max starts to formulate a joke that she could have told as a cover-up, but Chloe’s phone vibrates on the table and, when she lazily grabs for it, she lights up at what Max can only assume is Rachel’s name and newest response.

Max knows who Rachel Amber is, of course. You can’t be a student at Blackwell and _not know_ who she is, all flowing hair and charming smiles and contagious, enigmatic energy. Victoria’s disdain is an extreme outlier; everyone who has ever met Rachel seems to either love her or fall in love with her. Max has even overheard Nathan – owner of the school and everyone in it – admit that Rachel Amber exists on a level of popularity unattainable for anyone but herself.

Now, Max hasn’t had the privilege of interacting with Rachel in any direct way just yet. She has seen her, though, heard her voice and her laugh, received her radiant smile and, for some reason, a curiously knowing glance.

If Chloe is as close to Rachel as it seems, Max thinks she might be shit out of luck when it comes to reconciling with her old friend. She couldn’t possibly measure up to _that_. The way the hard lines ease up around Chloe’s eyes when she’s texting her is all the proof Max needs. Except now Chloe’s brows are furrowed.

 _The fuck?_ she mouths, furiously tapping out another text.

“Oh, no. Trouble on Lesbos?” Victoria says sweetly. Chloe looks away sharply, her expression hidden by the motion, but only for a second. Max thinks she might have imagined it. Anyway, it’s probably just Victoria being her usual rude self that did it. Even Chloe can only take so much.

“My turn to pull the ‘none of your business’ card,” Chloe mutters.

“How convenient for you.” But Victoria honors the implied request and turns to Max instead. “So how does the esteemed selfie ho of Blackwell know _that_ blue shitstain on its reputation?”

Chloe looks up from her phone. Max clears her throat. “Our parents were friends when we were kids.” Well, it’s not really a lie. She’s not sure _why_ she’s hiding their past, but it feels like a mistake to tell Victoria anything even remotely personal. It could be all over the school by Monday, and Max doesn’t know how she feels about that. She only _just_ reconnected with Chloe, and by accident no less.

“I see.” Chloe returns her attention to Rachel. Something in Max’s chest twists up painfully, but there’s no time to dwell on it. “You’re fucking awful at lying, I almost feel bad for you.”

“It’s true,” Max says flatly. Chloe’s still looking at her phone, but her entire body is still, listening. Kate and Brooke stare with mild apprehension – or anticipation, in the case of the latter – between Max and Victoria. “What do you want from me?”

“Obviously,” Chloe says loudly, suddenly hopping down from the table; she walks around the fascinated Brooke and puts both hands on Max’s shoulders from behind, “her Highness wants to hear all about how incredibly _close_ we used to be, if you know what I mean. She’s the creative type, bet she’s got a hell of an imagination.”

Victoria’s cheeks gain a red tint, her expression a burning mixture of anger and embarrassment. On the other hand, Max feels like all the blood is draining from her own face. Chloe squeezes her shoulders, unexpectedly gentle. It helps, but only a little.

“Is that what you wanted?”

“How fucking dare you,” Victoria finally manages to spit out. “All I did was ask Maxine—“

“Fuck, we all know what you asked. You know what? Yeah, we know each other. But I believe one of the three of us still has a ‘none of your business’ card, if we’re still playing that game.” Chloe leans down to Max’s level; she smells like cigarette smoke and spearmint. A pleasantly sharp hint of rosemary, too. “Care to cash it in?”

Max nods, smiling in spite of herself. If more blood returns to her cheeks than had previously left, well, Chloe’s probably having too much fun messing with Victoria to notice. Too absorbed in her own thoughts, Max is surprised when, instead of simply letting go of her shoulders, Chloe grabs her arm and tugs her towards her table.

“Wait, one more thing,” Max says hurriedly after a thought occurs to her, pulling herself from Chloe’s slackening grip to approach Victoria. “It’s just Max. Not Maxine.”

“Fuck yeah it is,” Chloe says, triumphantly returning to her seat. “Hey, ‘just Max,’ come here. Got stuff to catch up on.” Max, buzzing with newfound, semi-rebellious energy and nerves, sits on top of the table in front of her.

On the other side of the room, Kate gets halfway out of her seat, leaning towards a now closed-off Victoria. She sits back down slowly, visibly concerned. Max feels a twinge of regret for worrying her friend, but not for teaming up against Victoria. She shouldn’t get away with everything she says.

Chloe looks up at her, lowers her voice, says, “You know, Max, I usually don’t get this kind of view so soon after reuniting with an old flame.”

Rolling her eyes, Max slides into a nearby chair. “You just like having the height advantage.”

“Guilty as charged.”

Silence falls between them like snow; gently, softly, but all too soon it becomes suffocating as the unspoken years expand to fill the empty space. Those years remain suspended there even when they can hear Kate whispering to Brooke, as if the others in the room no longer matter. Drops of rain start tapping gently against the windows.

“You left—“

“I’m sorry—“

They stop, blink in surprise, look away from each other. “You first,” Max offers, steeling herself. This was going to happen one way or another; it might as well happen now. And she deserves it.

“No, I want to hear what you think you’re apologizing for.”

“Oh. Well, I… I’m sorry I left, so soon after…” Max swallows, the memory heavy in her mind. “I’m so sorry.”

“Leaving is one thing. I knew about that, even if you did put off telling me for ages.” Chloe takes a deep breath, staring out the window at the leaves blowing in the wind. She crosses her arms, fingers tense against her biceps. “You were happy to wait five years without a call, or even a text.”

“I can’t imagine how…”

“How it felt? No, you can’t. You weren’t here.” Chloe glances at Brooke, who seems more interested in her conversation with Kate than anything else. She quiets herself some more anyway, though anger still seeps into every syllable. “Spoiler alert: it fucking sucked.”

“I didn’t order my parents to move specifically to fuck you over, Chloe,” Max argues, at least matching Chloe’s whisper volume if not her years-held fury.

“You’ve been here at Blackwell for over a month without letting me know. ‘Nuff said.”

“I just wanted to settle in first,” Max says, but whatever energy she had before has since dissipated. Chloe steamrollers over her next sentence with a vengeance.

“I saw you, you know. On campus.”

“What?”

Chloe nods. “I couldn’t believe it the first time. I thought I was on a bad trip. But there you were, looking like a lost fucking puppy.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Max knows even before Chloe rounds on her that it was the wrong thing to say. Not even just the wrong thing, but the _worst_ thing.

“Why didn’t _I_ say anything?” Chloe hisses. “Gee, I don’t know. For some idiotic fucking reason, I thought that _maybe_ after five years of not doing jack shit, you would be thinking, ‘Wow, I really fucked up there, huh? Better give my old best friend a call now that I’m in town!’”

“Chloe…”

“Forget it. I’m going to see if I can get out of here myself.”

Chloe gets up; the chair screeches as it gets pushed back. She makes her way to the door, ignoring every look – concern, distaste, confusion – and opens it slowly, looking both ways. The next moment, she’s gone.

“A hundred bucks says she’s expelled by Monday,” Victoria says, clearly enjoying the idea of it. “No way she gets past that one-man surveillance army. Hey, what are you doing?”

Kate had gone up to the door and opened it a crack, peering through. She pulls back and looks at Max. “She couldn’t have gone far. Mr. Madsen is just down the hall.”

“Are you really going to go after her?” Brooke asks, skeptical. “I know you’re the only one not in trouble, but…”

“I’ll find her.” At everyone’s looks of surprise as she maneuvers around the tables towards Kate, Max adds, “It’s my fault, anyway. If we get caught, that’s just karma or something.”

A hand on her arm makes her pause. “Be careful, Max. Karma or not, I don’t think you deserve to get in any more trouble.”

“Thanks, Kate.” Max gives her a (hopefully) reassuring smile. “I’ll try to be back before Madsen notices we’re gone.” It occurs to her that Kate could get in trouble if that happens, and she has to slip into the hallway before the guilt takes over.

Max crosses the hall as quietly as possible, listening for David. She starts creeping towards the front of the building, slowly, but heavy footsteps from around the corner stop her in her tracks. David appears down the hall, right in her path, and looks the other way. Max knows she needs to move, but somehow her legs won’t budge. She squeezes her eyes shut, waiting for the shout—

But Max almost shouts out instead when someone grabs her roughly by the shirt and pulls her into a classroom.

“ _Are you fucking insane?_ ”

“I—Chloe?” Chloe beckons for Max to move into the middle of the room, away from the door. She still has her phone out, but her annoyed-relieved look is all for Max.

“Yes, it’s me, asshole. Are you trying to get us busted?” She sits on the floor against the wall; Max follows suit, sliding down next to her. Across from them, Ms. Grant’s aquarium shines some light in the darkened room. “You have no idea what he might do if he catches you.”

“You seemed fine with risking it,” Max says.

“Yeah, but that’s just me.” Chloe stretches her legs out in front of her, staring at her feet. “You actually have something going for you here. If _I_ got expelled, it’s not like anyone would give a shit. It’s been a long time coming.”

“Wouldn’t Joyce give a shit?” Remembering Chloe’s mother brings back memories of the Two Whales diner, waffles, the low hum of conversation and an old jukebox in the corner. Max decides she owes that place a visit soon. She’s already spent too much time avoiding it.

“She’s expecting it, too. Sure, she’d be disappointed, but,” Chloe shrugs, “what else is new? I bet the step-dick would love to take me down a peg like that, just to prove how much of a loser I am. It’d make his day after Wells decided to let me off easy by just suspending me three years ago.”

“Step-dick?”

“You’ve met. He’s the reason you’re in this mess.”

“Wait, David Madsen is your step-father?” Max tears her gaze away from the aquarium and stares at her friend, whose life seems to have changed almost beyond recognition. Chloe’s nose wrinkles in disgust; it’s kind of adorable, and reminds Max of the Chloe she remembers. So maybe not _everything_ has changed.

“Ugh. It sounds even worse when you say it out loud like that. But yes.” Chloe sighs and looks at her phone. The screen lights up and starts vibrating, which shocks them both. Chloe scrambles to her feet and answers the call. “Rach?”

Max stays on the floor and tries to look anywhere else. The blackboard at the front of the room, the aquarium again, the slightly creepy skeleton in the corner – but nothing is interesting enough to distract her from the conversation.

“I already got out of the room, but I can’t sneak out of the building yet. I’m _this_ close to breaking a window.” Chloe takes a deep breath. “Fine. I won’t do it. Where the hell are you, anyway?”

She slumps back down onto the floor on Max’s other side. The phone is close enough now that Rachel’s voice, though quiet, can be heard on the other end. Max tries not to listen, but there’s no ignoring Rachel Amber.

“I told you, I’m busy. You can handle one day in detention, Priceless.”

“You might _be_ Price-less in a second,” Chloe warns. Rachel laughs, light and pleasant.

“Stop being so dramatic, babe. Make some friends, give Victoria shit for landing herself in hell despite making deals with the Prescott Devil, whatever. We can hang tomorrow.”

Chloe glances at Max, who stares resolutely at the floor between her legs. “Will you tell me what you’re up to tomorrow? For once in your charmed life.”

“I will. I swear on my left tit.”

“Fuck off, I know the right one’s your favorite,” Chloe says, but a smile finally starts to tug at the corner of her mouth. “I’ll pick you up at noon.”

“Can I bring Max with me this time?” Chloe’s eyes go wide. Max gives up on the floor-staring charade and looks over in surprise. “I think you two should talk. I’ll drag her kicking and screaming from her dorm if I have to.”

“Uh, no need, Rachel. She’s here with me right now.”

“Oh! Well, tell her I’m bringing her anyway. I want to get to know this mysterious best friend of your past.” Rachel pauses, then, “You were right, by the way. She’s pretty cute.”

“Okay! See you tomorrow!” Chloe hangs up before Rachel can respond and holds the phone to her chest. “Uh.”

Max chooses to spare her – both of them, really – the embarrassment. There are other, less deeply personal things to discuss, which sounds easier to deal with right now. “What did she say?”

Chloe’s entire body relaxes. “She can’t get me out today. Oh, and she wants you to hang with us tomorrow. That cool with you?” Max nods. “Cool.”

“Are you still going to try to bust out?”

“I don’t know. Rachel’s probably right; one day isn’t that bad. Besides,” she says, “it’d be kind of shitty of me to leave you like that.”

“I would totally deserve it if you did,” Max says seriously.

“Yeah, well.” Chloe pulls her beanie off and runs a hand through her hair; some familiar blonde roots are showing. A hint of the old Chloe Price. “What’s the Seattle hipster been up to all this time?”

“Not much,” Max admits. “I think the city was kind of out of my league.”

“Uh-huh. I’m calling bullshit. You were practically made for anywhere _but_ Arcadia Bay. Seattle seems like it’d be right up your alley, with all those pretentious art school nerds.”

“I’m sorry, have you seen your… everything?” Max says, gesturing to Chloe’s general area. “Blue hair and a beanie is, like, the artsy hipster staple.”

“You’re as much of a smartass as always, at least,” Chloe says, tipping her head back to look at the ceiling. “Still taking pictures?”

“How’d you guess?”

“Please. Being a photographer was all you talked about once we were old enough to give a shit about the future.” Chloe gives Max a sideways glance, adds, “Remember our plan?”

“We had a lot of plans.” All of them involved getting out of Arcadia Bay. None of them involved Max and Chloe getting separated.

“True that. I’m thinking of the one where you were going to travel the world, taking pictures of everything. And I was gonna be your bodyguard, because there was no way I was letting you go anywhere without me.” She laughs, humorless. “Weird how real life likes to fuck with a kid’s dreams.”

“I remember,” Max says, because she does. It was a warm but overcast day in Chloe’s backyard, taking turns on the old swing set – it must be even worse for wear now, if it’s still there. It was the first time Max had verbalized her dream to be a photographer, though Chloe had seemed to know it before she ever did. “You told me my pictures could be in a museum.”

“I stand by that.” Chloe pokes her shoulder. “Haven’t given up, have you?”

“That’s why I came here. To Blackwell.” Max groans, remembering the unpleasant surprise she’d been met with once she was cleared to attend on her scholarship. “They had a great photography program, and it was supposed to be even better this year with some secret celebrity instructor from the field.”

“You came back for Blackwell. Not your best friend. Don’t,” Chloe says, pinching the bridge of her nose when Max starts to speak. “I already knew it, even if it’s shitty to hear. What happened to the mystery teacher?”

“I have no idea. No one does.” Max bites her lip, considering her next words. Fuck it. “That’s what I was trying to figure out when Madsen caught me.”

“Wait, what?” Chloe says, perking up. “You really were snooping around?” When Max nods nervously, she laughs again, this time loud and delighted. “Damn, Max. You’re a real Nancy Drew.”

“As if. I didn’t even find anything. All it did was get my camera and phone taken away from me.”

“Don’t sound so torn up about it. It got us back together, right? The infamous pirates of Arcadia Bay.” Chloe takes Max’s hand and lifts it up towards the ceiling in a gesture of victory. “But this does present a serious problem.”

“What?”

“Max Caulfield doesn’t have her camera. That’s like a pirate captain without his hat.” Chloe pauses, puts the beanie back on. “Her hat.”

“Where are you going with this?” Max says cautiously. A familiarly impish grin slowly spreads across Chloe’s face – that look always means trouble. Whether it’s good or bad trouble remains to be seen.

“We’re getting your camera back so you can be at full power again. Then we’re getting out of here.”

“Chloe, it’s too risky,” Max says, but even she knows her tone isn’t exactly convincing. The idea of a stealth mission with Chloe is incredibly intriguing; it’s like they’re twelve and thirteen again, plotting yet another mission to steal food from the Two Whales. The difference now, though, is that it’s not Joyce – who was well aware and somewhat tolerant of their antics – but David Madsen, who represents a very real threat to their academic careers.

“Then let’s not get caught,” Chloe says, standing up with a fresh bounce in her step. She pulls Max up with her. “Duh.”

“…Okay. But let’s tell Kate first.”


	2. Rain Keeps Falling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what a bunch of endearing hot messes.
> 
> I'm changing some of the tags with the posting of this chapter, so please take note! My personal clarification note about ships I will be putting on the first chapter. Also take note that updates won't usually be so quick - I already had this from a year ago and merely edited the hell out of it, now we've reached unwritten territory. Spooky.
> 
> content notes: mentions of drug use/underage drinking, some punk girl being the opposite of a role model, all of which can be expected moving forward as well

“Hold on. I knew you were both annoying,” Victoria says, “but now it’s painfully obvious that you’re both idiots, too.” Chloe rolls her eyes; Max stands slightly behind her, fidgeting with one of her bracelets.

“No one said you have to risk your pretty little ass,” Chloe says. “Just that you’re not going to sell us out if you like having all your expensive shit in one piece.”

“You don’t want to threaten me,” Victoria says. “I can destroy you.”

“Nice try, but you can’t make my life hell any more than it already is.”

“Not you. I mean Max.” Victoria nods sharply at her. “You’re screwed anyway. _She_ has a scholarship.”

Instead of letting Chloe take her on some more, Max steps forward, feeling more powerful than she has in years. She might as well get this off her chest before she chickens out. “If you’re so influential, how come Nathan didn’t get you out of detention today? I doubt it’s the first time you’ve deserved it.”

“He’s not talking to me right now.” Victoria looks around the room, at Kate and Brooke sitting together, at Max and Chloe standing quietly defiant in front of her. “Vortex Club drama. None of you would understand.”

“I understand that whatever you did might be proof that you’re not as awful as you make yourself out to be, and that’s why you won’t tell us about it.” Max steps closer. Victoria crosses her arms, the glint in her eyes daring her to keep going. So she does. “Because being a decent person is somehow not good enough for you?”

Victoria scoffs. “You’re bluffing. You don’t know anything.”

“I really don’t. But whatever you did was enough to make Kate, who has every right to hate you, think differently. So if you want to keep it a secret, fine. God or _whoever_ forbid you actually have a heart.”

“Wow, Max,” Brooke says as Victoria turns on her heel and returns to her seat. “I didn’t think you had that in you.”

“Whatever,” Victoria says with a huff. Her shoulders drop, tense resistance letting up. “If you must know, I’m not keeping it a secret because I _want_ to keep you in the dark. Though that’s obviously what some of you want to think. All I did was instill one of Logan’s brainless jock friends with the fear of losing his balls if he didn’t shut his meat trap about a friend of mine. Principal Wells overheard. Happy?”

“You have fr—“ Chloe grunts as Max elbows her. “I’m just asking!”

“Yes, we are happy,” Max says, firm as she puts a hand on Chloe’s arm. There’s a time and place to keep needling Victoria but that’s not now, when she’s willingly showing them a piece of the actual person somewhere inside her.

“You two are sickening,” Victoria says with little of her usual vitriol. “But I won’t tell.”

“I won’t say anything either,” Brooke adds. Kate nods next to her. “Mostly because I want to see if you actually make it.”

“Awesomesauce.” Max has to hold back a laugh; _awesomesauce?_

“I do have one query for you both,” Brooke says suddenly, an afterthought. “How do you expect to get to wherever Max’s camera is? It’s Saturday, all the office doors are locked.”

“I can’t be giving away all my secrets,” Chloe says with a grin. “And there’s more at stake than Max’s stuff, as much as I bet the camera gives her superpowers under the full moon.”

“What, did he take your precious stash too?” Victoria says.

“Hey, watch it. There’s only one decent dealer around here. I know where to go if I want to ruin your party supplies. Anyway,” Chloe says, shaking her head, “if I want to get out of here, I need my truck. To drive it to freedom, I need my keys. You see my problem?” She turns the pockets of her pants inside-out to show that they’re empty, though a quarter drops out of one. “Oh, sweet.”

“Do you… have a plan?” Max asks, staring as Chloe picks up the quarter and flips it in the air. “Brooke’s right, if the offices are locked there’s no way we’re getting in unless you know how to pick a lock.”

“I know how to pick a lock,” Chloe says dismissively. At Max’s doubtful expression, though, she hesitates. “There were some videos. It didn’t look that hard… Whatever, I still have our secret weapon.” She points at her left boot.

“Unless you have a portal to Narnia in there…” Max gets cut off by Chloe’s exasperated sigh.

“What the hell would that be good for? No, dude, it’s even better.” She looks around at the others, then shrugs. “Guess I have nothing to lose, so here.” After a moment of fumbling with the clasps of the boot, she takes out a set of keys.

“I thought you said you didn’t have your keys,” Brooke says.

“Oh, these open no vehicle. This is the only benefit I get from living in the same house as Sergeant Shithead.” She gives them to Max, who looks closer. “His spare keys for _Blackwell_.”

Each key has a slightly worn-out number or word, listing their matching rooms. A few are unlabeled. Max looks back up incredulously at Chloe, who looks more smug than she’s ever seen her. It’s a high bar.

“Is everyone satisfied that I know what I’m doing now?”

“Wait,” Kate says, “do you know how you’re going to get past Mr. Madsen? I think he’s patrolling the area near the administrative offices. Isn’t that where you’re going?”

“Good question. Max?”

Max splutters, taken aback. “Why me?”

“You’re good at being unnoticeable. Don’t give me those eyes, it’s a compliment,” Chloe groans when Max gives her a withering look. “I mean you’re sneaky. It’s practically in your DNA.”

“I guess we can try to watch him and figure out his pattern,” Max says, thoughtful. She frowns, thinking of everything that could go wrong. “That still means getting up close and risking getting caught.”

“Not if he’s distracted,” Kate says. Everyone turns to her and she gives each of them a challenging look. Confidence looks good on her, Max decides. “If I can get him talking for a minute, you’ll have an opening.”

“You don’t think he’ll be upset you left us?” Brooke says. “I doubt he trusts any of us to be left alone.”

“Yeah, I don’t want you to get reamed by that asshole just for me,” Chloe says. She notices Max’s eyes on her. “For us.”

“Well, I don’t think he’ll give me detention,” Kate says dryly, though a slight tremor shakes her voice. “I can handle it.”

“Then that’s settled.” Chloe slips the ring of keys into her back pocket. “Saint Badass here will keep the guard dog busy while we slip in, right under his terrible moustache.”

“You’re not seriously going to risk Kate’s record and your sidekick’s scholarship for some car keys and a stupid instant camera, are you?” Victoria asks. “I might be a bitch, but at least I don’t drag my friends down with me just so I can get off on being a dirty wannabe punk.”

“Max isn’t anyone’s sidekick,” Chloe says through her teeth. Her eyes betray her worry, however.

“I’m choosing to help them. I believe Max made her own choice, too.” Kate looks directly at Victoria, who avoids looking back. It’s a curious reversal of roles, one which Max is all too happy to experience firsthand. She nods to confirm Kate’s words. “I appreciate your concern, Victoria, but it’s not necessary.”

“We should go now,” Max says decisively, a little more forceful than she intended. “Uh, I mean, we’ll be here all day if we keep arguing back and forth about what might or might not happen.”

“Mad Max is right,” Chloe says, thumping her on the back. “Let’s roll, short stacks.”

“Hey, I’m of average height,” Max says as they approach the door. “You’re only a little taller than me.”

Chloe shushes her and Max huffs indignantly, opening the door for Kate. David’s footsteps still echo down the hall from the direction of the main doors, but he’s out of sight for now. Max spots Kate clenching her fists and puts a hand on her shoulder.

“Hey,” she says quietly, “You don’t have to do this. He _is_ pretty scary.”

“Thanks,” Kate says, giving her a little smile. “But I’ve got this.”

“C’mon Max, let’s hide there,” Chloe whispers. She points to the doorway leading into the main entry hall. There’s enough room on either side for them to press up against the wall, where they’ll be mostly hidden by the open doors and the lockers. Chloe deftly moves ahead and slides behind the door on the left, while Max follows her lead on the right. She peers through the tiny sliver of a gap between the hinges and sees David just around the left corner.

“Okay,” Kate mutters from the hallway, still behind them. Her soft footsteps grow louder as she makes her way towards David, but they’re interrupted by another set of rapid, sharp steps. “What?”

“Don’t,” hisses Victoria, of all people. Max looks around the edge of the door to find Chloe doing the same, both wide-eyed and confused. They look down the hall to where Victoria stands next to Kate near the science room, the two partially hidden by lockers as they talk in hushed voices.

 _What the fuck?_ Chloe mouths to Max, who shrugs helplessly. They’re too close to David to risk escaping from cover now; he could look this way at any moment if he only takes a few steps into the intersection.

Soon enough, however, Kate and Victoria start walking towards them. Kate is a step ahead, and Victoria has toned down her usual uppity demeanor, though she gives Max and Chloe each a stern glare as they pass.

“Excuse me, Miss Marsh.” David’s voice cuts through the quiet of the hallways. Max hurries to peer through the gap, but she can’t see much since the girls had turned to the right and David has just followed them around the corner. “Can I ask why you’ve left your post?”

“I—“

“I had to use the bathroom, Mr. Madsen,” Victoria says. “Kate thought it would be best if she escorted me.”

Chloe’s face suddenly appears in the gap, up close and giant, and Max nearly yelps in surprise. Chloe steps back and gestures for Max to follow, so she does – after taking a deep breath, steeling herself for the worst.

“I trusted Max Caulfield to watch the others,” Kate says. A quick look around the vending machine shows that David’s back is to them. Impressively, neither Kate nor Victoria make any sign of noticing them. Chloe takes Max’s hand and leads her to the left, along the wall to the administrative office door. “I-She’s my friend, so I thought…”

“I understand, Miss Marsh. Though I would be more careful about that Caulfield.” David sighs. Max watches Chloe’s back as she takes the keys out as quietly as possible (it still seems too loud). “Miss Chase, is all this true?”

“With all due respect, Mr. Madsen, Kate wouldn’t lie if her life depended on it. She’s too… good, I suppose.” Victoria had been uncharacteristically staring at her feet, but now she meets David’s gaze, stubbornly confronting whatever suspicion his expression might contain. Max has never seen her stand up for anyone but herself – suddenly her story about getting in trouble for the sake of a friend seems more likely… _and_ more interesting, because who would Victoria Chase care for enough to defend (aside from, apparently, Kate)?

Max is so lost in thought that she has to clamp a hand over her mouth when Chloe again surprises her, this time by grabbing her shoulder to drag her into the administrative office.

“Damn, girl, it’s just me again,” Chloe says after she gently shuts the door. “I know I don’t look like the harmless kid I was the last time you saw me, but I hope I’m not _that_ scary. Not to you, anyway.”

“Harmless?” Max says, momentarily distracted from the task at hand. “It’s more like your style just caught up with the attitude you’ve always had.”

“At least I _have_ a style,” Chloe shoots back. She grins, sudden and mischievous as she looks up from rifling through the pigeonholes. “Bet you’d look good in some of Rachel’s clothes. I’m pretty sure you guys wear the same size.”

“Yeah, ‘cause she wouldn’t care at all about some stranger going through her closet,” Max says doubtfully. She walks around to the other side of the desk and starts opening drawers. “I like my clothes.”

“Don’t get me wrong, you’re cute the way you are and all of that,” Chloe says. “But it’s time for you to imagine the possibilities, Caulfield. You’re a legal adult now. See anything?”

“Not yet.” Max glances at the door, heart still pounding from sneaking around behind David’s back. “What do you think about—“

“Victoria risking her neck? Fuck, man, I don’t know. I wouldn’t have seen that coming in a million years, but I guess Kate did do her a favor.” Chloe pauses in the middle of searching a box in the corner. “Ugh, she’s gonna hold this over us forever.”

“Maybe,” Max says, more to herself. “You don’t think our stuff is in Principal Wells’ office?”

“I hope not,” Chloe says worriedly, looking at the keys. She goes to the door and tries a few of them, each jiggle of the door more forceful as her frustration rises. “Stupid fucking door. Shouldn’t the head of security be able to get in there?”

“You think he has information about the canceled photography program?” Max says, curious.

“Who knows what secrets this guy’s hiding?” Chloe grunts as another key fails to open the door. “He sucks at hiding his booze habit, so he probably _needs_ an impenetrable fortress to keep things away from Blackhell’s gossip hawks.”

“Whatever secrets he has, I don’t think we’re getting in there today,” Max says. She looks around the room, then hears Chloe messing with the door again. “Are you actually trying to pick the lock?”

“It’s worth a shot, right?” Chloe quickly gives up, however, and bangs on the door with a fist in irritation. Max, terrified, ducks below the desk and peers over it towards the door.

“Chloe, _please_ keep it down,” she says. “This is not a fucking game. We’re actually breaking and entering.”

“Do you see me breaking anything?” But Chloe hurries over to her anyway. “Can’t get in trouble for just entering.” 

“We can discuss the issues with your interpretation of legal bullshit another time,” Max mutters. “I don’t think anyone heard us, thank Dog.” Chloe laughs softly. 

“I forgot all about Dog. The great shepherd in the sky.”

“All they want are heavenly treats and rope toys,” Max adds, smiling. “I guess I never lost the habit after we came up with that.” She stands, brushing imaginary dust off her legs to have something to do with her hands. A white box catches her eye when she turns, sitting on top of the shelves behind the desk. “Wait. Chloe.”

“’Sup, Doc?” 

“Can you reach up there?” Chloe jumps to her feet and looks where Max is pointing, her face lighting up with excitement.

“That has to be it!” She reaches up, but her fingers just graze the edge of the box. “Fuck. I think I can get it, hang on.”

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Max says. She rolls the desk chair over to Chloe, who stares at it.

“Okay, and _that_ won’t roll out from under me? Dude, if you want to see me get hurt that badly, just wait ‘til we’re drinking in the junkyard tomorrow.”

“We’re coming back to the question of why anyone would be drinking in a _junkyard_ later,” Max says. “But right now, I’m going to hold this chair steady while you get that thing down.” When Chloe hesitates, she continues, “Do you trust me?”

Max wants to take it back as soon as she says it. What a stupid thing to ask someone you left and didn’t speak to for five years. But Chloe’s response is almost immediate. “Yeah, of course.”

Chloe steps onto the chair as Max holds the back, adjusting for balance. The extra height is more than enough for Chloe to pick up the box and bring it back down. She sets it on the desk and pulls the cover off as Max steps up next to her.

“We fucking did it!” Chloe exclaims, digging a set of keys out. Max takes out her phone, then her camera. Thankfully, both seem unharmed. “We’re unstoppable, Super Max!”

“Speak for yourself, Captain Chloe. We’re not done yet.” But Max grins, unable to hold back.

“Come on, take a picture. We need to commemorate this moment with your photographic genius.” Chloe drapes her arm around Max’s shoulders and pulls her close. The right sleeve of her jacket rides up and Max catches a glimpse of a tattoo there.

“Isn’t this evidence?” Max asks even as she positions the camera in front of them. Chloe presses her forehead to Max’s temple and laughs, breathless. _Click_.

“Why the fuck is this so easy, huh?” Chloe says, pulling away to let Max deal with the photo. “I should be pissed at you. I _am_ pissed at you, but it’s like…”

“Like no time has passed?” Max offers. She sets the photo and camera on the desk, having nowhere to put them without her bag.

“Something like that.” Chloe contemplates her keys as Max heads to the door to peer out through the window. She can’t see David, but it’s not as though the small pane of glass offers much to look at. Taking a deep breath, she opens the door as quietly as possible to peek out. No sign of David, Kate, or Victoria.

“I don’t see anyone,” she says. Chloe starts from her reverie and moves up behind Max.

“We should make a detour.” Max shuts the door, sudden and sharp. “What?”

“Victoria’s right, how haven’t you been expelled yet?” Max asks incredulously. “It’s like you go looking for trouble.”

“Not trouble… just your dorm room. I want to see it.”

Max puts a hand over her heart, feigning shock. “Chloe Price, I don’t think we’ve been back together long enough for me to take you to my room.”

“You ass,” Chloe laughs, shoving at her shoulder. “C’mon, it’ll be fun. You can get your cool retro film and take more pictures of us.”

Crossing her arms, Max says, “Let me get this straight. You want to sneak out of the building, go in the _opposite direction_ of the parking lot to the dorms to mess around in my room, then sneak all the way back across campus to get to your truck.”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“And do all of this without getting caught by your step-father, whose whereabouts are currently unknown.” Chloe clasps her hands together behind her back and leans towards Max, smirking playfully as if she knows what the answer will be. “…Sure. Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yes. Screw it, we’re already out here. Let’s just… not fuck this up.” Max glances down at the floor, imagining for a horrible second what might happen if she loses her scholarship. It’s almost guaranteed that she’d have to drop out of Blackwell and go somewhere else. She’d have to leave Chloe behind again.

She probably shouldn’t bring up that possibility, not yet.

“Hey, look at us being all cute and shit,” Chloe says softly, looking at the photo as she takes the camera from the desk and gives it back to Max. She picks it up for a closer view. “Max?”

“Yeah?”

“You think I could keep this one? Y’know, as a symbol of our reunion and subsequent badassery.”

“Of course.” Max bumps her shoulder against Chloe’s. “You’re pretty sentimental for a punk.”

“Real punks have feelings, Caulfield,” Chloe says. “Ready to go?”

Max awkwardly holds the camera against her body – she misses her bag already – and nods. Chloe slips out of the door first, looking both ways. She gestures for Max to follow, and they move quickly to the front doors. Max looks out in the direction of the dorms while Chloe looks towards the swimming pool and parking lot. 

“All clear,” Chloe murmurs. Max squints at a figure near the street, but she’s pretty sure it’s just one of the skater bros. They’re the least likely of anyone to rat them out. She gives Chloe the thumbs-up and they step outside, wincing at the noise when the heavy doors shut behind them. “Where do you think Dickhead is?”

“Hopefully far away from us,” Max says, pulling Chloe along towards the dorms, through the rain. They peer around each wall they come across, but it seems like even most of the students are too busy to mill around the campus this weekend. They finally relax when they enter the girls’ dorms, reasonably confident that David won’t be patrolling here for now.

“Looks like Victoria or one of her minions got to Rachel’s slate,” Chloe says, frowning at it as she ineffectually shakes rainwater off her beanie. Sure enough, someone has left it with several rude comments alluding to her supposed sexual escapades. “Not very creative.”

Max erases the messages and draws an adorable (in her opinion) smiley face as Chloe shakes her head in disappointment. “Do you seriously still have an issue with emojis?”

“Do _you_ seriously still use them?”

They argue the merits of pictorially expressing emotions all the way down the hall, until they reach room 219 – Max’s room. “Here we are. What are you doing?” Max adds warily when Chloe grabs the marker for her slate.

“The world needs to know that the pirates of Arcadia Bay are back in action.” She messily doodles the two of them as pirates the way Max remembers from when they were kids – Max with an eye patch and sword, Chloe with a bandana and hook. Next to the drawing, Chloe proceeds to write _We’re Back, Bitches_.

“Classy.”

“It’s a fucking masterpiece and you know it.”

Max opens the door with her key and lets Chloe inside first, strangely nervous. It’s not like she’s never had Chloe in her room before – in fact, this is probably the one person who has spent the most time in her room besides herself. Max shakes off the feeling and shuts the door behind her – only to bump into Chloe standing next to her bed as soon as she takes another step. 

“You took all of these?” Chloe says, apparently unfazed by the collision. Max follows her gaze to the photo wall and nods slowly.

“Most are from Seattle, but I’ve put up a few from the last month or so too,” she says.

“That’s fucking amazing,” Chloe says earnestly. “And so _Max Caulfield_ , it hurts.”

“Thanks, I think.” Max grabs her bag from where it hangs on her desk chair and puts the camera away alongside the instant film she has stored for spontaneous shots. “Got the film, now what?”

“Whoa, what’s the rush? Let’s chill.” Chloe flops her entire body onto the couch and stretches her arms out. Max hesitates but she turns on the stereo, volume low, and sits on the edge of her bed. “You seem tense.”

“And you’re not?” Max absently rubs her thighs, hoping to relieve some of the pressure she feels building between them. The things still left unsaid from the last five years – but things from before, too. “We’re basically fugitives.”

“Only if he finds out we’re missing. Max. Lighten up.”

“Sorry, I’m not used to breaking into locked rooms to steal contraband.”

Chloe scoffs and rolls onto her side to look at her. “Hypocrite. You’ve been snooping around, you said so yourself.”

“I looked in _one_ filing cabinet. Maybe two,” Max says. She shrugs and avoids Chloe’s gaze. “It doesn’t matter.”

“What, you want to address the giant fucking elephant in the room instead?” Chloe waves an arm in a vague indication of the room at large. “By all means.”

“But…” Max frowns, confused. “Don’t you have anything to say?”

“Dude, I said it already.” Chloe sits up and leans forward, looking at the floor. “I’m pissed that you left and didn’t keep in touch at all. That you didn’t even fucking think of saying anything when you came back.”

“I thought of it,” Max mutters. Chloe looks up – and now she seems less angry than weary, like the years in between have chipped away at her resolve. “I didn’t forget, if that’s what you think. I just… didn’t know what to do. Which is no excuse,” she adds hurriedly.

“Well, it was shitty. You know that, I know that.” She takes a deep breath, lets it out. “Doesn’t change how good it feels to have my best friend back. Maybe it’ll bite me in the ass—“

“No way,” Max says, determined.

“—but I actually do want to fuck shit up with Max Caulfield again.”

“What about Rachel Amber?”

“Okay, yeah, Rachel’s great,” Chloe says, nodding. “She pretty much saved my sorry ass. I care more about her than almost anyone I’ve ever met.”

“I—“ Max is interrupted when Chloe gets up and sits next to her.

“ _Almost_ anyone, Max.”

Max, unsure of how to respond, looks at her hands. “She is very… magnetic.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean she seems to draw a lot of attention, good and bad. I haven’t met her, but it’s not hard to see.”

Chloe hums in the affirmative. She looks around the room, eyes lingering on the guitar, Lisa, the messy desk. “I don’t really get how she does it, but it’s cool. I know she’s real with me, at least.”

There’s something significant behind the words, so Max looks up and nudges Chloe’s shoulder. “How’d you get so close?”

“We were both going through some shit. You already know my shit, you’ll have to ask to find out hers,” Chloe says. “It all started with us kicking some creep’s ass at a show, then we cut class together the next day.”

“That seems fast.”

“It doesn’t take much convincing to get me to cut class,” Chloe says. “Throw in the most popular yet mysterious girl in school and I’m there, no questions asked.” She lies back on the bed, blinking against the lights hanging on the wall. “We probably learned more about each other in a few days than anyone else has figured out in years. I don’t know. Something just clicked, and it felt like destiny.”

Max can’t help but feel a little jealous; no one she had met in Seattle was that big a deal to her. Sure, she had friends – good ones, too – but not Chloe-level friends. There’s only one person who can fill that role, and she seems to be effortlessly making her way back. “I’m glad you met her.”

“Yeah?” Chloe peers at her over her nose.

“Yeah. It seems like meeting her was a good thing, and Chloe Price only deserves the best.”

“Damn right.” Chloe tugs on Max’s shirt until she falls back next to her, a little breathless. It’s so easy to fall back into this routine, so much so it seems superficial in a way. “Never thought I’d get in with a master of acting and lying, but here we are.” 

“Acting?”

“Oh, yeah. You wouldn’t believe some of the acts she’s pulled off.” Chloe smiles at an unspoken memory, mentally etched somewhere on the ceiling. “That’s how she has a near-spotless record when we both get into the same shit. That and authority figures don’t want to think of someone like her as trouble.”

“And you?”

“I just don’t care enough to act like I care, you know? And people expect trouble from all this.” Chloe flourishes a hand across her space. “But I can pull off an act when I feel like it, or when Rachel needs me to. Like the time she dragged me onstage to be in a Shakespeare play. And the one time—“

“Wait.” Max turns onto her side to look at Chloe, who smirks knowingly. “I thought you weren’t into saying words that other people wrote or whatever?”

“I didn’t exactly jump at the chance, but they needed someone to step up, so…”

“I would pay to see that. Like, with actual dollar bills.”

“As you should. We blew everyone’s minds,” Chloe says. “I kind of hated it, but I kind of loved it too. I see why she’s so into the acting gig.”

“You better have pictures or _something_ ,” Max says. “Otherwise I don’t know if I can believe the word of someone who just broke out of detention.”

“Now that’s the real tragedy,” Chloe says solemnly. She puts on a sober face and Max groans, recognizing the twinkle in her eye. “There was nary a photographer in sight, not with Victoria and Nathan both involved in the play. If only there had been someone with a little instant camera…”

“You’re the worst,” Max grumbles, sitting back up despite Chloe’s noise of protest mixed with a delighted laugh.

“Yes, but I’m the best of the worst. Admit it.” Instead of sitting back up with her, Chloe kicks off her boots and shifts so she’s lying lengthwise, one knee bent in a display of casual carelessness. The light frames her against the photos on the wall, and Max seizes the opportunity.

“Don’t move.”

“Oh, fuck yes. Photograph me like one of your Seattle girls.”

Max glares over the top of the camera as she moves to sit against the couch for the best shot, but Chloe isn’t looking. Her eyes are closed, her arms bracing the back of her head and a cocky half-smile curling across her lips. _Click_.

“I take it there were no Seattle girls, then?” Chloe asks, opening one eye to glance over at Max, who chooses to ignore the question. For now.

“It’s a good shot.”

“Let me see!”

Max tosses the photo over with a careful flick of the wrist, hitting her mark as Chloe nabs it out of the air. She pretends to fiddle with her camera as Chloe looks at it, taking her time – for what, Max doesn't know. A peek at Chloe’s expression reveals little of her thought process, and it occurs to her that there seems to be more of a veil across the scope of the emotions there than there used to be. Some things – anger, mischief, the fleeting joy of a job well done – come through without issue, but others… 

“You know who’d be into being photographed by a pro like you?” Chloe says suddenly, jerking Max from her musings.

“Rachel?” Max says; the thought had already occurred to her once or twice over the past month. It’s no secret that Rachel enjoys being a subject of Blackwell’s artistic side. “Maybe, but I don’t know.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Chloe scoffs, tossing the photo onto the tiny nightstand. Max starts to speak, but she’s interrupted by a slightly damp beanie to the face. “No, I know where this is going. You’re not all that different, I bet she’d love your artistic vision or whatever you call it.”

“This reeks of smoke,” Max complains, throwing the beanie back. “Don’t you ever wash it?”

“Once a month, and don’t change the subject.” Chloe points an accusing finger at Max, who instinctively pulls back against the couch. “You’re a kickass photographer and she’s probably the most beautiful model around. It’s meant to be.”

“What’s your angle?”

“Can’t a girl just want the two coolest people in her life to meet and embark on a creative journey of self-expression together?” Max raises an eyebrow, unconvinced. “It’s better you than Nathan, alright?”

“I see.”

“That little fucker just—“ Chloe stops herself, distaste clear from her expression down to the tension in her hands, flexing where they lie on her stomach. “Look. He has a shitty family situation, there’s no doubt about it. So do I. That doesn’t automatically make me an asshole.”

“Well—“

“I’m an asshole to people who deserve it,” Chloe retorts. Max nods, wondering by what criteria Chloe determines whether someone is deserving of what she can deal out. “He’s just elitist and rude and… a dick.”

“Well put.”

“You know what I mean!”

“I do, I promise,” Max says. “I try to avoid him.”

“I used to defend him when he was getting knocked around by bigger guys who had good reasons but poor execution. And then he goes and becomes an even bigger problem.” She groans, annoyed. “I’m never helping another entitled rich person again.”

“He runs the Vortex Club right?”

“Pretty much. That’s how they get all their money, and how they get away with all the drugs and underage drinking. Rachel brings me along to their parties sometimes, but most of the fun just comes from messing with people who are high and drunk off their asses.”

Max shudders at the thought of being surrounded by people in that state on all sides. It’s overwhelming to think about, and the fact that Chloe willingly enters the Vortex Club makes her uneasy.

“It’s not as bad as you think,” Chloe says, ever observant of Max’s reactions when she wants to be. “Mostly. Not everyone there is like Nathan, and even Victoria gets more tolerable when she lets her guard down. Hell, I’ve even had a genuine moment or two with the king of Blackwell himself.”

“So you’re saying…”

“Yep. Drugs are good.” Max snorts a laugh, taking even herself by surprise. “Am I wrong?”

“Well, I don’t know how to tell you this,” Max says when she composes herself, “but yes!”

Chloe smiles and beckons Max closer, still stretched out on the bed. “Maybe I am, but the results speak for themselves. If they live short lives due to health complications, that’s their own problem.”

“Oh, so you don’t get involved, is that it?” Max says as she gets to her feet and approaches the bed, stopping just short of it with her hands on her hips.

“I don’t do the hard stuff, dude. Promise.” Chloe frowns slightly. “Tried it at the first couple of Vortex Club parties but it was a bit much even for me. Now I just stick to cigarettes and weed.”

“And alcohol,” Max adds, remembering the junkyard comment. “That’s a drug too, you know.”

“Wow, thanks D.A.R.E.” Chloe gets up with a grunt and clambers to the end of the bed, leaning towards the stereo. “Tell me more about how I’m ruining my life. Obviously I care so much about it.”

“Hey—“ Max starts when the music changes, the gentle guitar taking a sharp turn towards rough, rolling riffs. “Don’t you like my music?”

“’Course I do, but sometimes I like to live a little louder,” Chloe says, though she looks back at Max with her hand on the dial. “Is that okay?”

“I guess so.” Chloe grins and vaults herself over the end of the bed, landing with a soft _thump_.

“Cool. Now, the real question: did you ever learn how to dance in Seattle?”

“There was a mandatory ballroom dance class…”

“Fuck that. I mean like, letting loose to bass so loud you feel it here,” Chloe says, tapping a closed fist against Max’s sternum. “The kind of music you don’t even need to hear to really listen to it.”

“Because it’s so loud your sense of hearing is gone before you turn twenty?”

“Hell yeah. Now, we can’t play anything too loud in the dorms. Learned that the hard way.” Chloe looks off at the window with a grimace. “But this’ll do for now.”

“Just show me already, Woman of the World.”

It’s nothing Max would call professional or _good_ , but Chloe’s insistence on being close and the carefree way she moves is compelling nonetheless. It still takes a considerable amount of verbal encouragement to get her to join in, and she feels embarrassed and silly at first. But Chloe takes her hands, nudges her shoulders and hips to get them to move, and eventually they’re a couple of teenagers laughing and dancing with reckless abandon alone in a dorm room, the rain outside lending a secondary rhythm to the music.

It’s fun but exhausting, and only a few songs pass by before Max slumps back onto the bed, Chloe following suit with an elated laugh as she catches her breath.

“Not bad, first-timer,” she says, propped up on her elbows at Max’s side. “You’ll be ready for the mosh pit before you know it.”

“I’ll pass,” Max says, shaking her head. “It was more fun than ballroom dancing, though.”

“I don’t know why you needed a demonstration to figure that out,” Chloe says, “but I’m glad you came around.”

“Honestly, I hated it from the beginning,” Max says. “But I think that had more to do with my partner. He kept stepping on my feet.”

“Mm. _Boys_ ,” Chloe says with a tinge of unexpected contempt. It’s not altogether surprising, but it does confirm the suspicions that Max has held onto for far too long.

“Not your type?” Max asks just in case she's assuming too much, and the deadpan look that Chloe gives her is answer enough. “Got it.”

“I gave them a shot, but no more.” Her expression turns contemplative, her eyes drawn up to the mirror on the wall. “Weird. I’ve never said it out loud like that before.”

“Really?”

“No one asks. Or cares. Least of all me.” Her gaze returns to Max. “Some people talk shit but mostly no one gives a fuck. The most important thing here is your money.”

“I don’t know if that’s better or worse,” Max admits. She hasn’t had any conversations about it at length either, but it’s not like there has been any reason to bring it up. She has other priorities, like figuring out her photography career-to-be.

“Tell me about it. But I guess I’ll take elitist party kids over armed super-patriots like David.” Chloe absentmindedly taps her fingers on Max’s forearm, the rhythm of the music they had been listening to echoed in the sensation. She always has been the boundary-free type, at least with Max. Still, the number of boundaries that do exist seems to have multiplied in the last five years. “Sucks that it’s raining. Half the places we could chill are outside.”

“I like the rain,” Max says. “The sound is good for creativity. People get more inspired and productive when it’s raining.”

“What list blog did you get that bullshit from?” Chloe says, brushing hair out of her face. “I don’t hate it. It’s good for getting cozy with a joint when the time is right. But come on, don’t you feel it?”

“Feel what?” Max asks. She leans away, just a touch, and avoids meeting those eyes.

“That _energy_ ,” Chloe says enthusiastically. She grasps Max’s wrist and leans in. “You can’t tell me you’re content with just sneaking into the office.”

“I can and I will,” Max says. “I’m on a scholarship, Chloe.”

“So am I, and I’m still here! It might be a fucking miracle for me, but you actually have talents that are important to the school. They’re not letting you go just like that.”

“You’re talented too,” Max mumbles, feeling her resolve disintegrate in the face of Chloe’s animated eagerness.

“I’m asking you to let me use my talent for showing this place what it really deserves by joining me… in the pool.” 

“Uh, what?” Chloe’s excitement ramps up as she bounces out of the bed and paces back and forth next to it, pulling the keys back out and jangling them in Max’s direction.

“I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before! I have a fucking all-access pass to Blackwell, gym and pool included. That’s an opportunity, and don’t they teach us to take advantage of any opportunity to better our future?”

“And this betters our future how?” 

“We get to swim in the pool! Does that not sound like a better future than staying here all day?”

“I happen to like my room,” Max says, sitting up. She swings her legs around to hang over the side of the bed, secretly considering the idea. It _would_ be exciting, one way or another. Like every other day spent alongside Chloe, except now they’re technically adults and the stakes are higher.

Chloe steps up in front of her and leans down, hands on Max’s knees. They’re almost nose-to-nose when she says, quietly, “Indulge me?”

If nothing else, she is persuasive and knows exactly what she's doing. Max usually prides herself on having some level of self-control, but there’s always been something different about Chloe Price. She could ask Max to solve a murder and she would probably be all in with hardly a second thought, her inclination towards the mysterious only a partial factor. “Fine. But you owe me if this goes south.”

“Aye-aye, fellow swashbuckler. Let’s make our plan.”

It takes the better part of an hour to discuss the task at hand, mostly because of Chloe’s adventuring spirit that refuses to be satisfied by simple breaking and entering. Max manages to convince her that the breaking in part isn’t the issue – it’s the possible quick getaway.

“But I have the perfect idea for a graffiti mural in the boys’ locker room,” Chloe insists. “Dicks for _days_.” At a look from Max, she sighs. “Fine.”

When Chloe asks which locker room to enter through, Max says, “Doesn’t matter to me.” Then, “But maybe I’d prefer the girls’ locker room this time.”

“Gotcha,” Chloe says with a telling quirk of her eyebrow. Max lets it go uncontested.

After a brief discussion about how easy it is to follow the smell of pot – _think about it for a second, Chloe, is your high that important?_ – they’re shoving spare clothes for Max into her bag, Chloe bouncing on the balls of her feet in anticipation.

“Are you sure you don’t want something to change into?”

Chloe shakes her head. “This jacket has seen worse than a little bit of chlorine, don’t worry about it.”

“I can’t decide if I want to ask or not.”

“Think about it, we can always talk later. Are you ready?”

“I think so.” Max looks around the room, fruitlessly searching for a safer option. But the fact is, they’re already breaking the rules just by not being in detention. They might as well take it a step further. “Let’s do this.” 

“That’s what I like to hear!”

Chloe’s out the door before Max can react. As it starts to close, she takes a deep breath and listens to the sound of boots heading down the hall. Max catches the door and steps out a moment later only to see Chloe standing a few feet away, having walked back towards the door.

“You’re… really okay with this, right?” she says, a hint of nervousness creeping into her tone. It’s reminiscent of the time they broke an entire carton of eggs at the Price home and a young Chloe had rounded on Max and told her to leave so that she wouldn’t get in trouble. Max can’t help it – she smiles. “I did just kind of spring it on—“

“Chloe.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m in.”

A beat of silence passes before Chloe beams and closes the distance, draping her arm around Max’s shoulders. “You know, for the first time in five fucking years I’m glad I’m still in Arcadia Bay. Let's go fuck shit up, Caulfield.”


	3. Real in the Dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with this, the vignette closes! As a disclaimer, questions will be left unanswered - but that's why this is to become part of a series, the name of which is still a work in progress.
> 
> Not everything between Chloe and Max can be quite so easy, especially not with the immediate threat of a hellstorm hanging over them. A hint of their interpersonal storm will make itself known here. Also, the reason for my extra ship tags may be a little more clear after this as well - though I still second-guess my decision to include them. Oh well!

They don’t get very far to start off.

Embracing the moments before they’ll need to be covert to avoid David, Chloe’s boots are all but stomping down the hall of the girls’ dorm as she begins to tell a story from the past five years. Her arm is still around Max, though her hand gestures animatedly and threatens to bump into Max’s cheek.

“Rachel didn’t always live here, but when she moved in it was pretty much the best fucking thing to happen to us,” she says, pointing at room 224. “We could hang away from both our families, and one time—“

“Hey, Max—and Chloe?”

They’re almost at the door; Max turns around as Chloe’s arm drops from her shoulder. Dana Ward leans out of her room a short distance away, and she seems thoroughly surprised. A smile quickly covers it up as, ever the cheerleader, she puts on a guise of radiant positivity.

“I heard you were in detention,” she says slyly.

“We were, and then we weren’t,” Chloe says, hands finding their way into her pockets. “It happens.”

“Funny how that works out,” Dana says. She looks to Max. “I didn’t realize you two knew each other. Is this a new development I should know about?”

“Well…”

“I won’t tell ace reporter Juliet if it’s all hush-hush,” Dana adds with a wink, and it’s suddenly all too clear what she’s thinking.

“It’s not, um, no,” Max says hurriedly. “Not like that. We were friends before I moved away.”

“Yep. Today’s about reconnecting and new beginnings, sentimental shit like that. How’s the, uh, smartest football player this side of Oregon?” Chloe asks, a bit too overly polite and obviously eager to move on. Dana’s smile changes, loses some of its confidence, and she looks away.

“You don’t need to pretend,” she says. “Call him whatever you want around me. We’re done.”

“ _Thank you_ , fuck, I can’t stand that balls for brains jockstrap.”

“Do you… want to talk about it?” Max asks, taking a tentative step towards Dana, who shakes her head.

“You two seem like you’re on a mission, so don’t worry about me. You’re always welcome to stop by later, though,” she says, which tells Max all she needs to know. She makes a mental note to take her up on the offer as soon as she can.

“Okay, will do. Take care, Dana.”

“Yeah, blast some music and burn everything of his,” Chloe says. “It feels good, promise. And if he did anything to you, let’s just say I won’t say no to a good reason to screw with him.” She pounds a fist in her other hand for good measure, an unfamiliar darkness clouding her otherwise playfully supportive expression. Max thinks twice before commenting on it and satisfies herself with merely giving Dana a wave as she turns back to the door.

The sound of Dana’s door closing beats them to the exit, and Max lets out a breath she’d been holding. “I hope she’s okay.”

“She’s tough,” Chloe mutters, peering out to the stairwell before ushering Max through. “She’ll pull through. It’s for the best anyway, Logan’s just a piece of shitty, shitty work.”

They make their way down to the front doors without encountering any other students, though Max hears the occasional voice from beyond various doors. She reaches the doors first and looks out one of the windows to the side, squinting into the rain-blurred grounds.

“Any unwelcome faces?” Chloe says, close behind.

“Just the Tobanga. Come on.”

“That thing really should be put back where they found it,” Chloe whispers as Max gingerly opens the door. Hushing her, Max reaches back for Chloe’s hand and pulls her forward.

“Lead the way, professional delinquent.”

Chloe squeezes her hand and surges ahead, leading them along walls and around corners. They spot Samuel just as they leave the dormitory grounds, decked out in rainwear as he attends to his usual duties, but he either doesn’t notice them or doesn’t pay them any mind. Max starts to feel the October rain’s chill before too long and shivers as Chloe looks around the corner into the main campus.

Chloe doesn’t even look, just tugs Max against her side and puts an arm around her, lending what warmth a drenched person can manage. “Here’s the hard part,” she says quietly.

Max nods. “Crossing the campus.”

“Remember, stay close to the walls and duck under the windows.”

“I do remember my own ideas.”

“Smartass.” Chloe tucks the three brass plated bullets hanging from her neck into her shirt, finally muffling the subtle clinking noise, and gestures for Max to follow as she pulls away and around the corner.

Someone walking their dog along the sidewalk near the street, umbrella in hand, looks over curiously as they slip past, as close to the wall as they can manage without tearing through the bushes planted around the building. Max glances up at the nearest window and nearly gasps at the sight of someone watching them – but it’s just Victoria in the ex-photography lab, who shoots them a look of contempt before turning away.

Max hears Chloe snort with barely-held laughter and they continue onward, getting closer to the far building that holds the Blackwell swimming pool. They are just passing the front doors of the school when they burst open – Chloe scrambles behind the message board nearby and drags Max with her, both stumbling as they go. Chloe’s grip is painfully tight on Max’s arm as they brace up against the side of the stairs, crouched as low as possible.

“Fuckin’ rain,” mutters a voice that can only belong to David Madsen. Some static, then, “Ten-four.”

“Huh?” crackles a different voice, muffled by radio static and the rain. David sighs, annoyed.

“Means I got your message, rookie. Forget the high risks in the parking lot, I’ll handle it. Keep doing your rounds. Do you copy?”

“Yeah—I mean, ten-four!”

David’s steps pass just by their heads, Max’s heart somehow racing just as loud but ten times faster. They remain still when David takes the right turn towards the parking lot, right in front of them, and Max hardly dares to even breathe until he’s completely out of sight beyond the pool building.

“We better hurry before he comes back from dealing with the _high risks_ ,” Chloe says, the phrase dripping with intense scorn. She straightens up and releases her hold on Max, who follows a half-step behind as they rush to their destination. Tension knots in Chloe’s shoulders as she fumbles with the keys, swearing under her breath. But the door does open once she finds the right key and turns it aggressively in the lock.

“Careful,” Max says, but Chloe isn’t listening. They slip inside and Max prevents the door from slamming shut, closing it gently. They pass through the second set of doors and breathe freely again when the windows, distorted to keep out wandering eyes, are behind them. “Hang on.”

Chloe pauses and leans against one of the vending machines. She stares at the display shelves on the wall across from her. “Hanging on. Something wrong?”

“Not with me,” Max says slowly. “What are ‘high risks,’ Chloe?”

She scoffs and tilts her head back. “You know, potheads. Delinquents. Mostly just the ones on scholarship who are ‘wasting’ the wonderful gift of education so generously given to them by getting high or skateboarding or whatever bullshit. Me and my graffiti marker included.”

“That seems—“

“Fucked up? Yeah,” Chloe says bitingly, “it is. One of the security guards who was here before step-douche got hired, this guy who was actually pretty cool, accidentally told me about it.”

“Bullshit,” Max says, drawing Chloe’s gaze. “What about all the hard drugs? The Logan Robertsons beating kids up? They’re way riskier than some skater bros.”

“Oh, no, ‘Nathan and Victoria represent the best that Blackwell has to offer,’” Chloe says in a tone that suggests she’s just repeating something she has been told, word for word. “And the football players bring in their parents’ piles of cash, but only if they’re sufficiently enhanced so they don’t suck. Welcome to Blackwell, Max.”

“Some dream school,” Max mumbles. Chloe’s expression softens, though only by degrees.

“That’s what you get for getting your priorities wrong,” she says. “Real people first, bullshit institutions dead last. Now,” she continues, spinning the ring of keys around her finger, “you still set on getting in through the girls’ locker room?”

“Does it matter?”

“Maybe,” Chloe says as she unlocks the door on the left. “You never know.”

Max busies her hands with the strap of her bag and follows Chloe through the locker room. “Maybe some of us don’t want to choose.”

Chloe’s laugh echoes, bouncing joyously around the walls. “Maximus, your dedication is great but you don’t have to hang onto the locker room metaphor like a goddamn lifeline. I get it. But for the record, girls’ locker room is the right choice.”

“Oh?”

“The boys’ spaces all over campus are total fucking dumps. Take it from someone who knows from experience.” Max catches a glimpse of Chloe’s look of disgust and regret as she turns and leaves the showers. “We’re gonna need the lights!”

“And where’s that switch, Miss Experience?” Max asks, entering the pool area. Some cloud-diffused light illuminates the room from a series of large windows, but the rainy day has definitely left something to be desired.

“Maybe the office over there?” Chloe suggests. She’s already sitting by the pool, her outstretched hand sweeping through the water. “Jackpot, it’s heated!”

Max ducks into the office and finds the controls, along with a couple of cold cups of coffee presumably left by the coach of the Otters. She flips the switch and a blue light suffuses the main room, emanating from the pool itself. A look out the office window reveals the gently dancing reflections of light from the water against the far wall, along with an excited Chloe quickly tearing off layers of clothing.

“Rachel’s gonna be sorry she missed this,” Chloe says when Max returns. “Somehow we never got around to skinny dipping in Blackhell’s precious pool.”

“Wh—You didn’t say anything about skinny dipping,” Max says, eyes wide. No way she’s prepared for that. Chloe winks, and the heat rising in her cheeks just intensifies.

“Gotcha. I’m kidding, don’t worry.” Chloe tosses her shirt unceremoniously against the wall, on top of her jeans and phone. Her tattoo is finally in full view, all twisting ribbons and flowers and blue butterflies, a skull resting among them. It’s unfamiliar in a new way, Max thinks. Hair dye fades or grows out, style changes, but something so stark and permanent where once the skin was unmarked is especially brazen and defiant. It suits her. “If you’re going to stare you can at least get your ass ready to jump in.”

Chloe cannonballs into the pool before Max can respond, the resulting splash landing at her feet. Max shakes her head and removes her own layers, the leftover chill from the rain leaving goosebumps in its wake.

Chloe, to Max’s relief, doesn’t pay attention – she had swum a short distance away and now floats on her back, staring up at the ceiling and apparently deep in thought. Max hesitates for a moment but ends up snapping a photo of this peaceful, pensive Chloe, who rights herself and swims back when Max finally splashes in.

“Best idea ever or what?” she says. She splashes gently in Max’s direction, treading water. “It’s cool, you can admit I’m fucking incredible.”

“Chloe Price,” Max says, amused, “you are fucking incredible.”

“You’re not too bad yourself. Pretty badass, actually.” Chloe braces herself with one arm up on the side of the pool. “Few have been able to keep up with my bullshit. It’s not surprising, it’s more like some serious déjà vu.”

“And who else keeps up?” Max asks, genuinely curious. “Rachel?”

“Oh, not even for a second,” Chloe says. “ _I’m_ the one keeping up with _her_. Most of the time.”

“That’s hard to believe.”

“Let’s just say that if I’m going fifty on a thirty-five, she’s going seventy on the same route.” Chloe pauses for a moment, then, “It’s fun as hell but there’s always a danger of crashing. Then again, it’s all part of the fun.”

Max swims over to hang on the edge next to Chloe, the water splashing up against the tile in her wake. Unsure what to say, she looks around the darkened room.

“Not like I’d trade it for anything,” Chloe continues. “We’re in it together. Like you and I used to be.”

“We’re in this pool together, aren’t we?” Max says. “And, by the way, keeping up with you isn’t _that_ hard. I know how you roll.”

“Right. You know what’s fucking hilarious?” Max shakes her head. “Three years ago, before I met Rachel, I was pissed at you. Like, way worse than I am now – it was the smashing old cameras at a junkyard kind of pissed.”

“That’s kind of poetic. I’m sorry, again.”

Chloe shrugs. “Mom and Rachel both say I have a flair for the dramatic. Anyway, I felt shitty but I kept thinking, if you just called or showed up it’d be like nothing changed. We’d be back to our old mischief in a heartbeat. Now look at us.”

“There’s a lot more at risk than there used to be,” Max says. “You know, if you don’t want—“

Chloe cuts her off with a raised hand, then grins and flicks water in Max’s face. “Don’t get all apologetic on me, Caulfield, we did that dance already. Let’s just focus on where we’re at right now, alright? All I need is for you to be straight with me, figuratively speaking.”

“Sounds good to me. No bullshit.”

“No bullshit,” Chloe repeats with a sharp nod. “Just you and me, screwing with this place one pool at a time.”

With that she lunges at Max, who shouts in surprise just before she finds herself under the surface. Blinking her eyes open against the water’s sting reveals Chloe kicking away as quickly as possible, bubbles trailing as she laughs. Max gives chase, determined to give back what she gets with this different-but-not-so-different Chloe.

It turns into a friendly game of cat-and-mouse, or possibly shark-and-otter. Max keeps her head up most of the time, a part of her anxiously waiting for any sign of someone catching them. What light there is that streams in from the windows begins to change, indicating the later hours of the afternoon, and it’s not too long after that when Chloe climbs out of the pool, pleading defeat.

“You’re tougher than I remember, Max,” she says, slightly out of breath. Max drags herself out of the pool as well, feeling a small burst of pride even as she attempts to hide just how worn-out she is.

“It’s called growing up,” she says. “You should try it sometime.”

Chloe shoves lightly at her shoulder with a scoff and fondly mumbles, “Fuck you.”

“We shouldn’t push our luck here much longer,” Max says as she tries to tame her chlorine-soaked hair. “Ugh. Too many chemicals.”

“Agreed and agreed. Let’s clean up and get out of here.” Chloe steps into the locker room and finds some unused towels, tossing one to Max.

“Look at your hair, you have no say in what ‘too many chemicals’ means.”

“Hey, I use the least toxic stuff I can find,” Chloe grumbles as she finishes drying off and begins to struggle into her rain-damp clothes. “Fuck. Not dry enough. Besides, some people can pull off the chemical-soaked look.”

Max checks her phone for the time once she’s dressed – in fresh, new clothes – and finds that it’s nearly six. An unpleasant thought occurs to her almost at the same time that she registers the presence of several notifications from Warren. He'll just have to wait.

“Uh, Chloe?”

“Yeah?” Chloe isn’t looking, distracted by her attempts at shaking her jacket dry. “Maybe I should have borrowed something from you.”

“What happens when it turns eight and Madsen doesn’t see us in the room when he dismisses everyone?”

Chloe looks up. “I don’t think… huh. You really think he’ll bother to look in just to tell everyone to leave?”

“I don’t know, but that’s the point. What if he does?”

“I mean, like I said, it’d take more than one round of playing hooky to get you the boot,” Chloe says, though she doesn’t look directly at Max. “And I don’t give a shit what happens to me.”

“Maybe you’re right, but it’s not us I’m worried about,” Max says. She steps closer and lowers her voice. “Kate personally lied to him for us, and I bet he’d try to get her in trouble for it too.”

“She knew what she was getting into by helping,” Chloe says, a little distant as she crosses her arms. “Everyone knows what could happen if they get involved with my shit, it’s their choice.”

“She’s my friend too. Look, I know you want to drive off somewhere and get away, so do I, but I don’t think she deserves—“

“Deserves to get left behind?” Chloe says, a little too loudly. The words echo around the room, each iteration a piercing jab into Max’s chest. “I’m glad you care about her well-being more than mine.”

“You know that’s not what I mean,” Max says, getting frustrated. “What happened to focusing on right now?”

“This _is_ right now,” Chloe says. “In this moment you’re saying we should go right back to detention, which we specifically left with the plan not to go back. You’re saying that because you and Kate are such good friends, you don’t want to give Little Miss Virtue the risk of what would hardly be a scratch on a record that is as pure and fucking untouched as she is.”

“She’s a good person and I wish you wouldn’t talk about her like that,” Max says. Chloe’s self-centeredness isn’t new but it does seem to have been magnified somehow. “It’s almost over, we wouldn’t be there long anyway. Isn’t that worth making sure that everyone gets out of this unscathed?”

“No,” Chloe says firmly. She pulls the keys that she had recovered earlier from her pocket. “I got these back and I plan to use them. If you don’t want to join me, fine. I bet step-soldier never expected me to stick around anyway.”

“Come on, Chloe—“

“Don’t,” she says, but then she sighs and turns away. “Forget it. I don’t care.”

“Bullshit. You care so much you’re making a big deal out of, what? Being a decent person?”

“Fuck off, Max!” She heads to the locker room, adding, “I’ll call when I feel like talking. You better answer. That is, if you even remember how to respond to your best fucking friend.”

She disappears into the locker room and her footsteps trail away, punctuated by the distant sound of a door closing. Max groans and leans against the wall to process what just happened.

Chloe wasn’t being fair, though it’s true that Max had implicitly agreed to leave campus earlier. But Kate shouldn’t have to bear David Madsen’s ire for them, even if she maybe wouldn’t get in that much trouble. Regardless, it’s painfully clear that no matter how much it can feel like nothing has changed, something between her and Chloe is torn and ragged, the frayed edges sharp when they inadvertently slam into them. It seems it will take more than a day of shenanigans to dull the effects of the past years on both of them.

Recognizing that the clock nevertheless ticks onward, Max heads for the door. Peering outside for signs of David – or even Chloe – it seems that the rain has stopped and the clouds are just beginning to disperse, revealing the brilliant colors of near-sunset. She opens the door once it’s determined that the coast is clear and begins to carefully sneak towards the front door of Blackwell. Along the way, Max hears a motor revving and the screech of tires from the parking lot, though she doesn’t rule out the possibility of having imagined it.

Thankfully, the front doors are left unlocked even on Saturdays, and Max slips inside without a problem. The halls, as far as she can see and hear, are empty. She still keeps a wary eye out as she makes her way to the photography lab, vaguely remembering how she was doing something similar the day David caught her. Max remains convinced of a cover-up job, but she doesn’t have the energy to linger on that at the moment.

Upon entering the golden light-suffused room, she is first relieved to find that David isn’t present. The second thing she notices is Victoria’s expression, which is utterly livid as she stares past Max at the wall, apparently paying her sudden reappearance no mind. The third is a familiar voice calling her name for the first time.

“There you are, Max! I was wondering how long it would take you to get here.”

Near the back of the room, in the very seat that Max had vacated some hours ago, is Rachel Amber herself.

“I thought you were leaving,” Kate says, drawing Max’s attention to her as well. It’s a lot to take in all at once. “And where’s Chloe?”

“Oh, um, Chloe left,” Max says. “I wanted to come back and make sure you don’t get in too much trouble for letting us out of your sight.”

“That’s why she looked so pissed,” Rachel says. At Max’s questioning look, she adds, “I was watching from the window since Victoria said she saw you two sneaking to the pool. Honestly, I’m a little jealous.”

Max crosses the room and sits at one of the other back tables, keenly aware of her wet hair. She tucks her bag – realizing she didn’t have it here earlier – in the back corner, behind some boxes. “I thought Chloe said you were busy.”

“I was, but then I figured I would come back and get a head start on our plans for tomorrow,” Rachel says. She places her elbow on the table and leans into her hand, giving Max a once-over that feels a little like being x-rayed. “It’s good to finally meet you, Max Caulfield.”

“You too,” Max says, somewhat intimidated. But she straightens up and asks, “Why stay here if you knew we were at the pool?”

“Well, for one thing, no God keys here,” Rachel says wryly. “It’s more comfortable in here where it’s dry, and I thought I would catch up with you when I saw you leave. But then you left separately.”

“And you didn’t go after Chloe?”

“She can handle herself and could probably use some alone time to cool off. I came here to talk to you, anyway.” Rachel takes out her phone and types something out. “And now she knows.”

“Oh.” Max busies her hands by checking on the photos she took today, hoping that they haven’t gotten wet from the rain or the pool. Rachel looks over curiously.

“You took those?”

“Yeah, just today,” Max says.

“They’re really good.” Her eyes drift over the two photos – the third having left with Chloe – and her smile quirks up at the corner of her mouth. “Here I thought Chloe didn’t like being photographed.”

“Really? She’s never had a problem with it as far as I remember,” Max says. “She used to encourage it all the time, actually, when we were kids and I had my first camera.”

“Interesting. She seems bitter about it whenever I suggest that she join me for a shoot. I found a loophole, though: photo booths.”

Max’s first impression is that Rachel chooses her words carefully. There’s an evenness to her voice that speaks to many years of delicate exchanges – it makes sense that she has the ability to fit seamlessly into almost any group if she feels like it. It’s a far cry from Chloe’s more reckless style of conversation.

“So, Max. What’s your sign?”

“My zodiac sign?” Max had looked it up once, but she didn’t put much stock in it at the time. “I don’t remember.”

“That’s fine, I think I remember Chloe telling me it was your birthday last month? I think that puts you at Virgo.”

Chloe had remembered Max’s birthday?

“You’re probably right,” Max says.

“Hm. That makes you an earth sign,” Rachel says, deep in thought. “And a helper. Though I don’t really get the sense that you’re exceptionally organized.”

There’s an audible huff from Victoria, but Rachel doesn’t react to it.

“No, my room is kind of a mess.” 

“Maybe I should be the judge of that,” Rachel says, a little too shrewdly to have been a completely innocent suggestion. Max can’t help but look at the photos in front of her instead of the bright light that is Rachel Amber’s full attention on her. “It can’t be worse than Chloe’s room when she’s been in a very bad or very good mood.”

“Last time I was there we were supposed to be getting rid of all the junk in her room,” Max says. It’s hard to remember the details now, especially considering what happened later that day. “But she didn’t want to get rid of anything.”

“She is excessively sentimental,” Rachel says. “It’s good to know that’s always been the case.” Her phone is buzzing where it lies on the table, but she merely glances at the screen before returning her gaze to Max.

“Is that important?”

“No, it’s just my dad,” she says lightly. “He can wait.”

“And… has Chloe texted back yet?” Rachel shakes her head, but she seems unconcerned as she gets up and sits on Max’s table, her back turned on the rest of the room. She drops her voice.

“No, but she’ll clear her head and feel better before too long. Especially because it’s you.”

“She’s upset with me,” Max says, brows furrowed. “And for good reason, so what makes you say that?”

“For someone who’s pissed at an old friend, she sure likes to hang on to that connection,” Rachel says. “Her love for you has gone on this long, I don’t see why it wouldn’t stick around now.”

“Wh—“ 

“That’s a conversation for you two,” Rachel says, “but come on, you must know that girl constantly wears her heart on her sleeve. It gets her in a shitload of trouble.”

“Well, yes.” Max almost doesn’t want to ask, but her curiosity is too strong. “What about you? She speaks very highly of you.”

Rachel smiles, and Max itches to take a picture of her gleaming in the golden hour’s light that pours in through the windows. But there’s time for that later. “Don’t let her fool you, she’s seen through my bullshit and called me out when I needed it. We’re… we do have something special. I won’t lie about that.”

“’Something special?’”

“It comes and goes,” Rachel says cryptically. She glances over her shoulder at the rest of the room, which seems to have lost interest. Victoria’s frame remains tense, shoulders high like a cat’s raised hackles. As they watch, she beckons Kate over and they begin whispering together. Kate’s eyes look past her to Max and Rachel for just a moment, but her expression is placating when she responds to Victoria.

Rachel turns back and Max spots her blue feather earring as it swings with the motion.

“It sucks that they canceled the photography program this year, doesn’t it?” she says with a slight frown.

“It sucks more that they won’t tell us why,” Max says. “What happened to the celebrity instructor they were raving about all that time? That’s what I want to know.”

“Apparently,” Rachel says conspiratorially, like she has been thinking about this as much as Max, “this celebrity was supposed to teach it last year too, but they got the original teacher to stick around that time. Lots of photographer hopefuls who went for the two-year senior program expecting someone with serious field experience got screwed over.”

She motions subtly towards Victoria as she mentions the program.

“Isn’t it weird that Blackwell caters so much to certain students, but this is the one time they’re keeping quiet? Parents with money must be furious.”

“I have to imagine something happened to the celebrity,” Max says. “Maybe we could find out through news articles from… wherever they’re from.”

“That’s just what I was thinking,” Rachel says, beaming. “You know, I think we’d make a good team. With Chloe, of course.”

“She’d never pass up a chance to snoop around,” Max agrees. “Plus I think she’d hate to be left out.”

“Oh god, we’d never hear the end of it. But you can’t help but love her and her charms.”

“I hear that you two get into mischief sometimes,” Max says. Rachel grins.

“Sometimes.” She regards Max with intense interest for a moment, then, “We could probably use an earth sign in the mix, though. Then maybe the world won’t end in flames or floods when we’re finally running it.”

“So she’s a water sign?”

“Oh, she’s such a Pisces.”

Max laughs a little, wondering what Chloe thinks of Rachel’s interest in the signs. Considering the way she likes to hold on to symbolic mementos, she might be into the idea of a contained symbol of herself and her fate. Then again, Chloe wouldn’t let some coincidental stars tell her what to do. Max isn’t so sure about any of those abstractions herself, but if nothing else it’s a fun topic of conversation.

The clock sitting haphazardly in a box near the front of the room ticks away, but as Max looks at it she realizes the time is wrong. It depicts a future hour, or possibly a past morning hour. Time is weird, Max thinks.

A loud sound startles everyone in the room, and Max puts a hand over her racing heart as she looks around along with the others. Rachel finds the source first, heading to the window nearest the back of the room just as a second rock comes hurtling up and hits it. She makes some kind of gesture in the window and suddenly Chloe’s face appears near the bottom, blocking some of the light that still streams from the sun that has passed the horizon.

“Speak of the devil,” Rachel says as Chloe motions to the mechanism that opens the window. She shrugs at her and looks at Max, a playful glint in her eye. “Do we let her in, Max?”

Chloe bangs on the window with a fist and flips Rachel double birds, though she doesn’t appear to be genuinely angry, just annoyed. “We probably should.”

“Mm. You’re right, you never know what she might resort to.” Rachel opens the window and Chloe is instantly trying to pull herself into the room.

“Officer Dickass is in the way again,” Chloe mutters, grunting as she struggles with climbing. “Can you help a girl out? It’s higher than I thought.”

Rachel nods and reaches down to one of Chloe’s shoulders. “Come help us, Max.”

Tentatively, Max walks over and catches Chloe’s gaze. It’s still hard, but less so now as Max supports her other shoulder and they both pull her up and inside. Once released, Chloe brushes her hands across her front and says, “Thank god this shithole still hasn’t installed window screens everywhere. I left that pocketknife you gave me in my room.”

“I gave that to you for the express purpose of using it,” Rachel says. “It’s not going to get used in there, now is it?” 

“I can only stuff so many things into my boots,” Chloe says. “You know how uncomfortable it is just to have keys in there?”

Max backs away during the conversation and settles into her original seat from earlier, hoping to avoid too much attention. Unfortunately, it seems that Chloe and Rachel only have attention spans for her today.

“I’ve been getting to know your Max,” Rachel says, once again sitting on Max’s table. “I know we said we’d meet tomorrow, but I couldn’t wait.”

“Of course not,” Chloe says as she slumps into a chair at the table just in front of the window she had come through. She eyes the rest of the room. “Hey. How are the other inmates doing?”

“We could be better,” Brooke says. “It’s been unbearably boring here. Welcome back.”

“I thought you were leaving,” Kate says. Chloe flashes Max a look.

“And get you in trouble with the drill sergeant? No way. I guess I can deal with another thirty minutes or whatever.”

“Right, _that’s_ the reason,” Victoria says with a sneer. “It has nothing to do with being Rachel Amber’s number one bitch.”

“Oh, I like that,” Rachel says teasingly. Chloe’s eyes roll up to the ceiling and stay there, stubbornly refusing to look at anyone. “But I think Max is starting to be my new favorite.”

“Take her,” Chloe says, still staring up.

“How about no one takes me anywhere?” Max suggests, fiddling with her wristbands. “I’m sorry, Chloe.” She grunts in response. Rachel gives Max’s arm a comforting touch.

“You were right,” Chloe says with a long, drawn-out sigh after some time passes. “As usual. I was being an asshole in the wrong way.”

“Well, I didn’t do much to make it any better,” Max says.

“It’s not your fault,” Chloe says. “Not that time. Victoria, I can practically _hear_ you drooling over this drama, fucking leave it alone for once.”

“I’m sorry, I just didn’t realize that you two don’t just have a history, you have a grudge about something,” Victoria says. “I recommend not alienating your only other friend, Price.”

“Yeah? You still haven’t said anything about the mystery friend you oh-so-valiantly defended to get your ass dropped in here. I’m starting to think this person doesn’t exist, you just needed an excuse.”

“Fine. Question my integrity. See if I care.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for anything that takes Logan or his friends down a peg. The bastards deserve it. For once, I’m glad you opened your mouth.”

“That’s high praise,” Rachel points out. “She doesn’t usually like anyone but herself opening their mouth.”

“Fuck you, Rach.”

“Fuck you too,” she responds with a wink.

“Fuck both of you and leave me alone,” Victoria says, looking like she’d rather be anywhere else so long as she’s far away from the combination of Chloe and Rachel.

“Well, if you insist…” Chloe’s stony expression finally breaks, just a little, as she snickers at Rachel’s words. Max can’t resist her own smile, either.

“Insufferable,” Victoria mutters just under her breath.

Just then, at a quarter to eight, David Madsen all but stalks into the room, eyes sweeping around in search of trouble. “I heard voices. Thought I said no talking.”

“I’m sorry Mr. Madsen, I didn’t mean to distract them,” Rachel says. “I thought the detention period ended earlier.” Max can only see her back as she moves to the front of the room, but she has her hands behind her back – they’re tense, her fingers flexing.

“Did you, now?” David says, disbelieving. “Come on, scoot out of here Miss Amber. You still got some minutes before I’m releasin’ that one back into your hands.”

“Thank you, sir,” Rachel says, with veiled sarcasm that Max thinks she only notices because of all the time she has spent around the ever-sardonic Chloe. David, at least, doesn’t appear to react to it as Rachel steps into the hall. “I hope you have a good evening.”

“Now. Miss Marsh, your report?”

“Um, my report?”

“Did any of them cause trouble for you, or leave?” 

“No,” Kate says, shaking her head. “It’s true there has been some talking, but only a little, and everyone stayed put. They’ve been nothing but respectful to me.”

“I moved tables,” Chloe says. “Hope that isn’t a problem.”

David glares in Chloe’s direction for a few long seconds. “No. I’m glad to hear you all were more or less respectable students, and I hope some of you have learned something about how not to end up here again. As for the others…”

“It’s okay, you can single me out. That’s great leadership,” Chloe says. “Is that in your little bedside pamphlet?”

“In the interest of goodwill,” David says, resolutely ignoring Chloe, “you’re all dismissed early. See me outside the office if you have some property to recover. Have a good rest of your weekend and stay safe.” At that, he steps out of the room without another look or word.

Brooke is the first one out the door, giving none of them a backwards glance as she presumably makes a beeline for the office. Victoria leaves soon after, hesitating near Kate as she packs up her things.

“Thanks,” Victoria says brusquely. Kate looks up and smiles.

“It was nothing. Have a good night, Victoria.”

After Victoria leaves, Rachel peeks her head back inside. “Hey, close that window. I bet he’ll be back in here later to do a total investigation for anything that might be out of place.”

Max glances at the filing cabinets she had started to look through earlier in the week, accepting that Rachel likely has a point. Chloe shuts the window and latches it as Kate slips her bag onto her shoulder. Outside, twilight slowly begins to fade towards darkness.

“Thank you,” Kate says, looking between Max and Chloe. “You didn’t have to come back, but you might have saved me a call from my parents.”

“You deserve to stay out of trouble,” Max says, smiling as she pulls her bag out from its hiding place and puts it over her shoulder. “It was raining anyway. Not much to do in that weather.”

“I hope you two had fun in the pool,” she says, raising an eyebrow. “I’m impressed you didn’t get caught.”

“We make a good team,” Chloe says, approaching Max with her arms crossed. “We always do.”

“Well, see you all later! Bye, Rachel!”

Rachel waves to her as she leaves, then bounds into the room towards Max and Chloe. “You have to tell me everything about sneaking into the pool. It’s heated, right?”

“Fuck yeah it is,” Chloe says, gloating. “Perfect after running around in the rain.”

“It felt a little lukewarm after a while,” Max says. “But it was fun! Getting there was just a little…”

“She’s not used to sneaking around the cops,” Chloe says, swinging an arm up and around Max’s shoulders. “Yet.”

“Aw. What a bad influence you are,” Rachel says sweetly.

“Uh, more like a good-bad influence. Please.” Chloe turns to look at Max. “Are we cool?”

“Very cool,” Max says. She has a sneaking suspicion that it will still take longer than one day to work through the last five years, but it seems they’ve made the all-important first step. “Are you still planning to drive off, for good this time?” 

“Nah.” Chloe tries to bring Rachel in with her other arm, who gracefully avoids it and instead takes up Max’s other side. Chloe rolls her eyes, but smiles nonetheless. “I thought I could chill here for the night and we can head to the junkyard first thing in the morning.” 

“Which, for Chloe, means—“

“Noon,” Max says, saying it in time with Rachel. Chloe groans.

“I’m going to regret having two of you on my ass all the time now.” Rachel smiles and looks across Max to Chloe. “ _I’m_ capable of waking up early! On the other hand, Mom used to joke that the only alarm that works for Max is the smell of her cooking.”

“That could wake a hibernating bear,” Max says, feeling hungry at the memory alone. “So good.”

“She’ll probably be ecstatic to see you again. Bet she’ll ask you to set me straight.”

“Bet I’ll tell her I’ll do my best and then nothing changes,” Max says. Rachel huffs good-naturedly and pulls away, grabbing for both of their hands to start pulling them out of the room.

“You two will have plenty of time to catch up, alright? But not in an abandoned classroom.”

Max and Chloe look at each other, then allow themselves to be pulled along to the dorms. Max catches a glimpse of what Chloe had been saying earlier – Rachel seems to move and think quicker than anyone she’s ever met. It’s overwhelming, but the relief at being back on relatively good terms with Chloe outweighs even that.

With the last of the sun’s rays disappearing from the sky and the stars beginning to twinkle a distant story of their own, the three of them enter the Prescott Dormitory. Chloe’s laugh trails out the door as it closes, and Max starts to think there could be hope for them yet. All it will take is time – but time, finally, spent together.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a test run after several years of a break from writing - if it goes over well I'll continue, so let me know what you think! I had this thing ready almost a year ago and it's time it was released into the world.
> 
> 4/1/18 - Test run successful, and now I'm interested in expanding this as a series of similar vignettes of different lengths! There are many threads to follow, after all. I may need some help deciding where to go next.
> 
> If you're interested in messaging me more directly, you can [find my gay ass here](http://sharkbaitin.tumblr.com/). In any case, I'd like to meet some rad folks who can lead me to some cool & positive LIS content.
> 
> Seriously though, please help unburden my friends - who currently endure my rambling thoughts and brainstorming despite having no personal interest/investment.


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